It's Not Love
by Cherrie
Summary: (Hisoka+Illumi YAOI) Hisoka contemplates about his relationship with Illumi.


**Disclaimers:** Hunter X Hunter and all mentioned characters are owned by Mr. Yoshihiro Togashi. I'm merely an insanely dedicated fan ^^;  
**Notes:** This fanfic is done in Hisoka's point of view. I don't know why every time I think of Hisoka and Illumi's relationship in Hisoka's POV, it always implies on...er, sex. It's kind of disturbing actually. I can't believe my favorite pair in HxH is such a...physically inclined one. Good grief, I'm under-aged! *gags a Hisoka plushy* But hey, at least I've proven to myself that shounen ai is possible (somehow) *sends heart-stricken puppy eyes towards Illumi-sama before being barraged by a thousand needles*. It was a miracle I actually came up with shounen ai before actually. Oh well, back to the eternal yaoi ^^; The fanfic in itself somehow elaborates my view on how I see Hisoka and Illumi's relationship. Very debatable.  
**Warnings:** Hisoka+Illumi yaoi. It's not a lemon, but it does contain a few implications and quite a...uhm, violent/bloody view of romance (if it's romance at all). I'm rating it between PG13 - R just to be safe. Read at your own risk. Thank God it's not sappy!   
  
**It's Not Love  
**  
I heard the gentle hush of cotton sheets rustling underneath my weight as I rolled away from the warm body beneath my own. The momentary sight of heavenly white skin graced by the soft moonlight created a rather sensual wave inside me, awakening the supposedly satisfied lust that had just been filled by the recent activity. Cold beads of sweat trickled down the sides of my face, down my neck and collarbone, as if tracing the very lines that burned from the memory of soft, warm lips.   
  
Illumi Zoldick. For the umpteenth time, I'm sharing my bed with him. 

I lay down beside him, my eyes staring at the ceiling as I took note of the now calming breaths that came in and out of my seemingly tight chest. I need not even move my eyes to know that he had his back to me. As if he didn't want to see me. He was always like that. The very heat that I feel whenever I take out my frustrations on him is the exact contrast of his chilling coldness when we're outside this regular ritual.   
  
Judging from my words, it's easy enough to realize that this isn't the first time that I have been with him. I've lost count actually. All I can remember was that the first time we've done such a thing was during the Hunter Exam, when we were in that abandoned island. I've forgotten which one of us took the initiative, but somehow, we ended up--excuse the term--screwing each other senseless in the middle of the night.   
  
Why? I don't know. For my part, I just found myself in the midst of those moments when I just had to lay my hands on something just so I'd be able to see blood. I found my roommate rather boring, especially since the pathetic coward had been shaking non-stop ever since he found out that I had been his pair. I had decided that spilling his blood would just waste my energy, without even giving me the fulfillment that I needed.   
  
But this, this pale-skinned, raven-haired beauty with me now, had given me that satisfaction that time. How he found me had now grown vague. But the memory of how he snatched the card I had desperately held beneath the darkness that time, the memory of him using his energy through it as I normally do, and how he had used it as a sharp knife to cut himself just to calm me down, were all still alive in me. The memory of salty, bittersweet, metallic warmth that flowed through my tongue as I tasted him was still crystal clear. It had been enough to awaken a fire within me that made me want to search him for more ways to gratify the scorching need my body seemed to have begged me for. 

But it wasn't only his blood that I had wanted. For a crazed moment underneath that night's mysterious moonlight, I wanted him.

Since then, the constant meetings had been predictable. All throughout the Hunter Exam, whenever we were given the chance, I've wanted him beside me as much as possible. Right after that, he showed to me just how frustrated he was with his brother and his so-called friend, gaining me countless bruises right after our night together. He must've been really frustrated that time. Not that I mind. Before and after I entered the Sky Arena, right before I took off in a plane ride for Yorkshin City, we met again. Then while he worked for Kuroro as a bodyguard. Then after I found out, to my irritation, that Kuroro wouldn't be able to serve his purpose for me after all the time I've spent following his blasted ass, Illumi was my comfort yet again. 

Then another count for tonight. There are also the times in between. I forgot. Like I said, I lost count.

But whenever we were together, there never was any sign of affection given out by any of us. For heaven's sake, "affection"? Me? Affection is hardly the term to associate me with. Not to mention that the same goes for him as well. We make an interesting pair actually now that I think about it.   
  
But still, during these confounded nights when I find sleep completely ignoring me, I can't help but think of how things have gotten this way. No, don't get me wrong. I'm not in the least bit complaining. This is very convenient actually, for I get to pour myself out without even having to say anything. I don't know. It's a bit difficult to say, but whenever I look at him, I often ask myself how I even survived the times when he hadn't been with me. My dark life has somehow been more manageable now, making me forget how it had been before I met him. At least I get to look forward to something else besides another murder.   
  
Speaking of which, I remember some of his words some time ago, the same words he had given his brother. "You only like him because he's strong, and it's hard for you to judge him. Someday you're going to wonder if you can really kill him, and you would want to have a try." 

Was our case like that? Did we really see each other as nemeses after all, and are merely waiting for the right time to test the comparison between each other's strengths? I've often thought about this. I've asked myself constantly why the thought of challenging him never crossed my mind. Surely it wasn't because he would be a boring opponent, he already had proven himself worthy of my admiration far too long ago. And of course, it wasn't because he was strong enough to may actually defeat me. As far as I'm concerned, if that was the case, then I would've been more excited about challenging him in the first place.   
  
I don't know about him, but I've already concluded that though he may be a lot to me, an enemy or opponent worthy of the wounds of my death cards is never a part of his role. Of course I've found his blood beautiful, sweeter than all my other victims combined even. But still, I never intended to really spill that sweet, crimson lifestream in any fatal attempt. I'd rather feel its heat underneath his soft, creamy skin.   
  
So what was he to me? A lover doesn't exactly seem to be the right term. I'm not even sure if we were friends, how can I jump to the conclusion that he's a lover? I screw him when I need to, he screws me when he needs to. I know I've heard a term for that before. I won't exactly call it a decent term, but it was a street term that explains the whole matter much better than "lover" would. 

What is this? Need? Lust? Of all people, why him? And of all people for him to notice, why me? Surely his beauty would allow him to choose anyone he would set his eyes on.   
  
I blinked my eyes, now realizing that I've been staring far too much on the ceiling that I forgot to blink. I shut them for a while, feeling the hot sting that was the common consequence of being careless enough to leave your eyes dry. It's funny, because when I opened them, my vision was blurred because of the tears. I doubt that the wetness was caused by any other reason besides my hard staring, but it somehow brought about a sentimental feeling inside me, and I surprised myself by actually turning to one side, the very side that allowed me to face him.   
  
He still had his back to me, and I could smell the familiar scent of his soft, ebony hair as he laid there in front of me. His hair smells like sweet blossoms, but I don't know which exactly. He somehow reminds me of sugar and honey, with combinations of jasmines and magnolia, lilacs and most probably all the few, possible types of sweet scented things that I had stored in my memory. I found a lone hand coming up to rub the smoothness of his fine mane, thinking of how beautiful and black it seems to be in contrast with his deathly, yet tempting, white skin.   
  
"I don't even know who you are, Illumi," I caught myself mumbling. It was a random thought, fashioned by my semi-distracted mind, hypnotized by the very act of caressing his hair. I don't know if he heard me. I decided that he must've been asleep still, for he didn't even make the slightest move to regard my senseless statement.   
  
I sighed, telling myself that my endless questions about this man will never be answered. They will merely grow in size, as proved by tonight's sleeplessness. The simple questions that I had in my mind are now added with more complicated ones, getting more and more complex and confusing as time goes by, and I actually found it a miracle that it hadn't given me much headache from all the thinking.  
  
It was useless. But still, I wonder if these thoughts ever crossed him before. Is he as bothered as I am? I doubt it sometimes. He looks too cold to be disturbed by such thoughts. But then again, I've often seen myself as cold, but still I think of these.   
  
Or maybe I'm just growing delirious?  
  
I shook my head, welcoming the drowsiness that was now knocking behind my opened eyes. I didn't know why I did it, but right after suppressing a sleepy yawn, my arm slowly crept above the blanket that covered half of our bodies to search for his hand that I knew was resting somewhere on his side. I know it would be a bit of a risky thing to do, being that it had nothing to do now with us doing our business with each other, but I did it anyway. Over the course of my contemplation, I didn't realize how cold the room had felt to me, and now I was searching for his hand to hold on to keep me warm. 

Or was that just an excuse? I should insult myself. What am I, a pathetic child?  
  
But nonetheless, I found his fingers, and I gingerly crept my hands underneath his. Just a moment of some twisted comfort, that was all I ask. It will only take a second, and I plan to pull my hand away.   
  
But somehow, I wasn't able to do so. Right there, as I lay in the middle of consciousness and slumber, I couldn't regain my hand for the simple reason that he coiled his fingers against mine as well, holding me firmly underneath his grasp. I felt his thumb stroke my own, a gentle, ghostly touch that should've made the hairs up my arm rise, but did not. The gesture gave me...warmth.

I blinked. He was still asleep. I wonder if he knows what he's doing...

But nevertheless, I smirked, returning the gesture. The feeling of his warm touch was comforting in its own way, though slightly different from what I was used to. For a moment, I stared outside the slightly opened window, watching the stillness of the night, strangely thinking of his beautiful hair in comparison to the dark skies. Damn. I really am delirious. 

I shook my head. I really don't understand. It's strange, and it wasn't like I've had anything like this before. 

Oh well. It's not love, but it works. 

**The End **  
  
**A/N:**  
*blinks* I'm getting too much into this Hisoka and Illumi business. I think it even surpassed my soft spot for LeoPika! *scowls* If only I had more co-HisIllu fans, maybe I would be more happy. 

I think the reason why I like Hisoka and Illumi is because they don't love each other. They don't, do they? It's interesting somehow. They give me the impression that they need each other though, and I think it's enough to keep them together. Really, the word "love" can hardly be associated with these two. Is it obvious that I'm not much of a sap fan? ^.~  
  
Please do comment, hai? ^^; But please remember that I DO NOT TOLERATE COMMENTS THAT GO AGAINST MY TASTE IN PAIRINGS OR THE IMMORALITY (heavens...) OF MY WORK. Criticize my writing, I will accept that, but not my opinions. I value my opinions as much as I value my pride. Anybody who brings down my pride will see exactly how cold a dull, rusted old knife blade really is =)

- Cherrie (kurapikasama@yahoo.com)


End file.
